Yesterday while I was on my daily walk, I ruminated over how my faith has changed over the years, and I wondered whether I was going forward or going backward in my spiritual journey. I was pondering those questions when I met a man who was walking his dog along a dirt lane.

People in Europe are quite reserved and not prone to greeting passersby or engaging in any kind of casual chit-chat with a stranger. However, this person not only spoke to me but greeted me warmly in English, commenting on the beautiful morning.

I was surprised, almost shocked, not only by his friendliness but that he knew my language.

When I responded in English, he asked if I was English, and I explained, no, I was an American. He noted that I didn’t have much of an American accent.

When he said that, I couldn’t help quoting a comment that my English friend Bernie had made at a party a few weeks ago. He’d said, “I don’t speak with an English accent, I simply speak English. You, however, speak English with an American accent.”

I shared the comment because I thought it was clever and funny, though David, the man on the lane, responded in a serious way, saying something to the effect that no matter where we’re from, we have more in common than we think, that every person deserves to be treated with dignity. (Hear that Bernie! I think that applies to grasshoppers and cake eaters too. Ahem. Everyone else,  don't mind the inside joke)

Anyway, while assuring me he wasn’t a “Bible Thumper,” David recommended a book to me called Conversations with God. He said it had made an enormous impression on him, and that it was a spiritual book rather than a strictly Christian one. He even told me where I could buy it locally.

I don’t believe in coincidences.

I think it’s beyond remarkable I met a friendly, English-speaking person on quiet dirt road who recommended a book called Conversations with God just at the moment I was launching my own conversation with God on the meaning of life and religion.

The book is written by a man, who in a fit of anger and frustration, dared to ask God the hard questions, scrawling them on a legal pad, and then was shocked when he felt God was actually answering them, sending him messages to record below his questions.

Let me tell you—this kind of thinking is not my thing. The first word that comes to mind when I hear about people like this is "fruitcake."

 And yet.

 And yet.

I don’t believe in coincidences.

Can I put aside my distaste for spiritual self-help books and check this one out?

Can I remain open to the idea that perhaps I’m meant to read it, whether I like it at first or not?

Can I put aside my skepticism and cynicism long enough to accept I can still learn something from someone who may be a fruitcake or an opportunist?

I’ll let you know.

August 31, 2006